


Coulrophobia, Face Of Fear

by ImpulsivelyBlue



Series: Phobia [12]
Category: Xiaolin Showdown (Cartoon)
Genre: Bullying, Clowns, Gen, Mentions of Jacks parents, Past Events, clown phobia, mentions of a nanny
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-07-12
Updated: 2014-07-12
Packaged: 2018-02-08 13:33:45
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 952
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1943034
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ImpulsivelyBlue/pseuds/ImpulsivelyBlue
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Coulrophobia, the fear of clowns, extreme or irrational fear of clowns, from Ancient Greek κωλοβαθριστής (kōlobathristēs, "one who goes on stilts", clown phobia.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Coulrophobia, Face Of Fear

\---

Phobia, a pathological fear. 

Coulrophobia, the fear of clowns, extreme or irrational fear of clowns, from Ancient Greek κωλοβαθριστής (kōlobathristēs, "one who goes on stilts", clown phobia.

\---

When Jack was younger and still went to school, things were different, very very different. 

When he was younger he may not have liked school, hated it in fact, it was still something that kept him busy during the day even if the work during school was easy and the homework was boring and dull. 

His mom would stay around more then, she could look at him sometimes and she could even smile at him, his dad was still the same as he had been then, cold and unloving. He was around more when Jack was a child only because his girlfriend, nor of the first of many over the years, had broken up with him and left him nothing better to do than stay with his family, he hasn't looked directly at Jack in years. 

His parents would leave him with his nanny, a lovely woman that was fires for telling his parents their child was being bullied, for even beginning to suggest that a Spicer was so weak that they would cry and hurt under the accusing eyes of classmates and taunting words of children. He would be walked to the school gate and left to walk along the wide playground himself. 

From there the day was a muddle of pushes in the hallway on his way the the bright classroom, sitting alone at recess and writing notes that even the best scientists would have trouble with, ending the day remembering the other children's insults and bullying as he walked back to his nameless nanny, a forces smile plastered across his pale face. 

(He could feel hands pushing him to the side, panic gripped him as he grabbed for his notebook, "Go away, freak, no one wants to play with you.")

Even through the days that were harder and harder to face and easier and easier to smile after he still felt alone in the large number of people even when he remembers how many people there were on the planet and the calculations he made to figure out the likely hood of one of them being just like him. 

It was hard to go back but it was even harder to remember. 

("Freak!"

"Loser!"

"Go back to the circus, cry baby."

"No one wants you, not even your loser parents."

"You belong in the freak show, clown.")

When his teacher, a little old lady he can't remember the name of no matter how much he tries, encouraged the other children to play with him and include him in their games she met resistance and tantrums. 

So it was surprising when one day after months of encouragement she saw the children smile and agree when they agreed to include Jack in their games. 

She was relived, she admits to others when remembering that day, that the children were starting to see past differences and get on together. 

She also later remembers to horror that she saw later when checking on her students. 

As young as the children were they were still strong enough to overpower someone weaker than they were, especially when that person was outnumbered by a group, cornered and restrained, even as loosely as they were, by skipping ropes and playground equipment. 

Paints that were taken from the crafts table, red and green and smudged by tears that flowed freely from wide terrified red eyes were what really made the elderly teacher shudder, it was the steam she recalls, it was the scream that was the very worst. For months the children had been teasing him and hurting him and bullying him, they told him horrifying stories of clowns and demons, told to them by older siblings and overheard in movies the adults around them watched, when Jack saw what they had done, after sleepless nights and nightmares and horror he was terrified. 

A red smile was mockingly painted on to his face, his eyes splashed and burning because of the paint had smudged the children's cruel work with tears. Green paint had tipped and splattered his cloths, and roped that held him still during the others fun. 

When the children had seen their fun smudged and damaged by salty tears they had lashed out angrily, pushing and shoving until eventually Jack had fallen hitting his head on the sharp edge of a sink in the bathroom he had been cornered in, she thinks he still has the scars, blood fell freely from the cut by the left side of his face, just below his eye. It was a small thing really, curving around his eye, a permanent reminder of what had happened. 

He haven't screamed before, she doesn't think, only when he looked at himself and saw what they had done. The smile, still wide and happy even as blood sluggishly made its way down the side of his face and in to his messy vivid red hair, the darker colour standing out agains his pale skin and light hair. 

His scream was high and terrified, she didn't get there in time to catch the other children, all of them covered in paint at the craft table claiming innocents even as she looked at them with disappointment and fear. 

Jack didn't go back to school again. 

Filling his day with his own experiments and inventions, tying to forget the mocking face of the clown in the mirror even as he wakes terrified in the night. 

It was better now, he told himself. 

It was better than before. 

It was better that the others didn't know. 

It was batter. 

It was. 

\---


End file.
